Where The Mountains Meet The Sea
by euphemiafleurtrinket
Summary: Haymitch Abernathy is a mysterious guest at Westworld. No one knows much about him, but a chance encounter with new Westworld staff member Euphemia Trinket could change everything. Haymitch x Effie au set in Westworld. All rights to respective owners.


_Welcome to the pilot chapter of my newest fic! It's a Westworld AU which is an idea I've had since the first episode of the series aired months ago, and I've only just gotten around to write it now._

 _As always, feedback is very much appreciated, especially with this being the pilot :)_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

The breeze was cool against Haymitch's skin and he was most definitely glad of it. The climate in this part of the park was always a little too humid for his liking and he would avoid the place if the views weren't so spectacular.

He'd been coming to Westworld for several years now, spending at least a week per year there. People often questioned how a man such as himself could afford such frequent visits. He didn't _look_ like the typical ilk of visitors who frequented the park. He was alone, unkempt and downright short-tempered. But still, he spun the same story whenever anyone asked- that he'd won a lottery in his state and he could afford the $1,500 a night pricetag.

His real story was something he wanted to forget and Westworld helped him do just that. Alcohol on tap, endless hosts to beat up or kill- it was ideal for him to relieve the tension in his mind. And then there were female hosts. He'd figured out which ones' storyline would allow him to fuck them and he tended to stick to those ones. Of course, everything he did was with the host's full pre-programmed consent. He may have been an asshole, but he still had morals. Come to think of it, he hadn't been with a real woman since-

He slid his hipflask out of his pants pocket and took a long drink, making a mental note to refill it when he went back to the main town. After putting the flask away, he leaned back on his elbows with a heavy sigh and looked out over the expansive canyon before him.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke, the skin on his exposed chest from where he'd unbuttoned his white shirt was red. Thankfully, his face had avoided the sun's damage, because the brim of his hat had provided him with shade. He almost leapt out of his own skin when he removed said hat and caught sight of the blonde woman perched on a rock a few metres to his left, holding a sketchpad and pencil.

"Can I help you?" He said gruffly, sitting up.

"I didn't mean to startle you," the woman replied, her accent making it clear to him that she wasn't a host. None of them spoke like that. "I was just taking a stroll to sketch some of the landscape and I saw you lying there. You looked so very fitting in front of the backdrop of these mountains and I truly couldn't resist."

"Let me see," he grunted and waited for the woman to walk over to him.

He eyed the sketch closely and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly impressed at the level of detail she'd managed to capture in what he assumed was a short space of time.

"Well," he looked up at her, squinting slightly in the sunlight. "You've got a talent, sweetheart."

"Euphemia," the woman corrected him. "I don't take kindly to pet names, although I find that the hosts are always pre-programmed to use them. But no matter. What is your name?"

"Abernathy," he responded.

"Oh!" Euphemia smiled. "You're from the same timeline as Dolores and Peter, yes?"

Haymitch raised an eyebrow at her quick assumption. He got that question a lot.

"Ain't a host," he shook his head. "Guess I got a more common last name than I thought."

"What's your first name?" She enquired, sitting down beside him.

"Don't matter for now," he muttered, eager to change the subject. "You uh…you been here before?"

"No," she shook her head. "This is my first day."

"Huh," he nodded. "Well, I'm about to walk back to town. You can tag along if you'd like.

Ordinarily, he stuck to his own company. But this woman was intriguing him and he didn't quite know how or why.

xXx

"Had no idea they did free trips," Haymitch said, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets.

"Oh no," Euphemia shook her head. "I work here. It's standard with all new employees who've never visited. They let us spend a few days here to orient ourselves."

"What'll you be working as?"

"The design department," she answered. "Hair and costumes for the hosts, costumes for the guests, décor, architecture, all of those kinds of things."

"Well, the sketching-me-while-I-sleep thing makes sense now," he said with a small smirk.

"I do apologise profusely," Euphemia said with wide eyes. "I truly believed you were a host. I've been struggling to differentiate."

"They have little characteristics which let you know they ain't real," Haymitch replied. "Repeated movements, not noticing things goin' on around them. Hell, I was talkin' to one yesterday and a fuckin' wasp landed right on her arm. She didn't even flinch."

Haymitch could only stare when she pulled a tiny notepad and pen out of her pocket, keeping her sketchpad wedged under her arm as she wrote.

"What're you writing?" He asked.

"I'm taking a note of what you just said," she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "There is simply so much to learn."

"You don't seem to know a whole lot about this place," he observed. "How'd you get the job?"

"It was an internship from my previous employer," she explained. "The company has worked with Westworld before. They chose one of us at random to transfer here."

"Did you want to?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Euphemia frowned. "Not many living people get the opportunity to work in a place like this."

"Not many p-" He was cut off when he caught sight of a man who'd just stepped out of one of the buildings.

A man who had his gun pointed directly at Euphemia.

It was clear the man was just about to fire when Haymitch shot him dead with the pistol at his belt.


End file.
